He's Back
by Fanfic Fish
Summary: Nigel Crane is back, and he's planning on taking Nick with him . . . Will the gang be able to save him in time? Read and Find Out! ON HOLD
1. Torture

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, so just keep that in mind . . . I merely love writing about them.

Enjoy!

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A CSI Story

Nick awoke with a start. He layed in his bed, wondering what had woken him up. Then he heard a crash outside his door, instantly he was on alert. He quickly grasped his gun that rested on his nightstand. Nick carefully walked to the door, turning the knob handle quickly and pulling the door open.

His stomach turned at the sight of the person in front of him. "Hello buddy, it's been a long time!" It was Nigel Crane. "Wha . . . what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in prison!" Nick said feeling queasy. "Oh Nick, best friends always find a way!"

Nick didn't even noticed that his gun was now laying on the floor, after he had dropped it from initial shock. It wasn't until Nigel crane had lifted his own weapon, a pistol did it even register. "Well even though we are the best of friends, sometimes friends need to be punished! That's why I'm here!" Nigel grinned broadly, stepping towards Nick. Nick began to reach down for his gun. "Uh, uh Nick! Don't make me shoot, what's coming next will be better dealt with if you don't have a bullet hole in you!"

Nick spared a glance at his clock . . . it was now 3 a.m. No one would notice him gone; it was his night off. Quickly, Nick went for his gun. A loud shot rang out, and Nick felt a searing pain surge through his body. He cried out in pain, watching as blood systematically spilled from his shoulder, tainting his white collared shirt. "See what you made me do? I'm your best friend, I have to protect you, even if it is from yourself!"

Nick now lay sprawled on the floor, pressing his hand against is wound, moaning every time he tried to move. Blood pooled around his shoulder, white dots danced across his vision making it impossible to focus on anything.

Nigel quickly went to the distressed officer's side. Carefully he rolled Nick onto his stomach, when Nick tried to fight back Nigel pressed the gun to his head. "Okay Nicky, you know I'm not going to shoot you in the head . . . but I will shoot you, making this little lesson a little more unpleasant." Nigel's smile widened when Nick's movements stilled.

Nigel quickly grabbed the black bag he had brought with him, searching. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and secured Nick's wrists with them. "Okay Nicky, let's get started." He turned Nick back on his back, observing the red that was staining Nick's white shirt.

"First rule of discipline, make the victim immobile." He began kicking Nick in the stomach. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . _CRACK._ "Oops, guess I broke a rib or two!" Nigel said as Nick cried out and threw up blood then curling into a ball. "Second rule . . . well I don't know the second rule, so we're going to go to more pain tactics, you should have stuck up for me Nick, they were taking me to prison, you said nothing, we're friends, you should have set them straight!" Nigel babbled.

Fear and pain surged through Nick. _What's going to happen to me?_ He thought helplessly. Suddenly a knock on the door sounded. "Is anybody home?" the voice. Nick looked at Nigel whose eyes opened wide in shock. In one swift movement Nigel was securing a gag around Nick's mouth. He then turned towards the door and yelled, "Just a minute!"

He walked to the door and opened only 6 inches, a police officer stood there. "Can I help you?" Nigel asked. "Sir, one of the neighbors heard something like a gunshot come from this apartment, is everything okay?" "Sorry, the TV was probably on too loud, it's the John Wayne marathon, I do that sometimes, it wont happen again!" Nigel said quickly. The officer smiled and nodded and said, "Okay sir, make sure it doesn't, have a nice morning!" he turned and walked down the hall. Nigel closed the door and locked it. He smiled menacingly and walked back over to Nick and said, "Let the lesson begin!"

Two hours passed and the beating continued. Every form of torture was used. Nick was burned, stabbed, and slit. Nick's body convulsed violently as he choked on blood that had been caused from internal injuries. Muffled cries were heard and Nigel almost felt bad for his best friend, seeing that blood now decorated his gag. Finally Nigel grabbed Nick's baseball bat and gripped it tightly in his hands. "We're not done quite yet Nick!" The baseball bat was brought down repeatedly on Nick's body, inflicting new injuries.

Nigel only quit when he was sure Nick was unconscious. He kneeled beside Nick and observed the damage. The blood loss was huge; pools of crimson decorated the carpet, along with Nick's immobile body. Bruises decorated Nick everywhere, his head, arms, legs, face, neck, everything. Blood dripped sluggishly from gashes that covered the unconscious CSI. Finally Nigel spoke, "You passed the test Nick, when your better I'll come back for you!"

Nigel quickly picked up his tools put them safely in his black bag, and left the scene. But sparing a glance at Nick, "I promise buddy, I'll be back for you, then we can finally express our friendship!" He shut the door and rushed down the hallway.


	2. Where's Nick?

Hello . . .

Sorry this chapter is short, I kinda wrote this story in little intervals. But I promise the next chapter will be longer!

And I know that the first chapter was rather 'gruesome' but I felt like I had to get a point across, like. . . (Nigel is through playing games) which I think I did! - I can't promise that there won't be any more 'gruesome moments' (because I like adding painful problems, such as will he live, or will he die?)

* * *

**He's Back!**

"Hey Warrick, have you seen Nick?" Grissom asked entering the crime lab. "No, why?" Warrick said knotting his eyebrows. "He was supposed to go to lunch with me and Brass, but he never showed up, I called his cell, and home phone but no one picked up!" "That's weird, maybe we should go by his place and see if he's just sleeping!" Greg said butting in the conversation. The other two men nodded and Grissom spoke. "Maybe we should take the girls with us, just to make it a little more embarrassing for our fugitive CSI!"

All three laughed and picked up Sara and Catherine. "Are you guys sure he's okay?" Sara Sidle asked. "I'm sure Stokes just overslept, but we're doing this as a precaution, you know Nick, always getting into trouble!" Grissom replied.The group laughed as they drove to their teammates apartment.

* * *


	3. Send Help

know, I Know . . . it's still short, but I have a good reason . . . I'm trying to separate them into chapters!

Here his Chapter 3 . . .

* * *

Sara and Catherine waited in the black SUV while the boy's walked to the door.

Once they arrived they quickly went to Nick's door. "Yo, Nick open the door!" Warrick shouted while pounding on the door. No answer. "Hey Greg, didn't Nick give you an extra key for emergencies?" Grissom asked the younger CSI. "Yeah, here it is!" Greg said as he pulled his key chain from his pocket, he took of a key and handed it to Grissom.

Grissom took the key and unlocked the door. "Guy's, maybe you should stay here while I check things out." Warrick rolled his eyes and said, "Grissom, we're not children!" Grissom chuckled and nodded and said, "Well that's highly debatable!"

Grissom pushed open the door and walked in cautiously. "Nick, are you here?" Greg asked watching Grissom and Warrick draw they're guns. Grissom was first, he walked back towards Nick's room. His blood ran cold at what he saw. "Nick!" he yelled horrified.

Nick lay face down with blood pooling around his head, the gag securely in place along with the steel handcuffs. Grissom went to his knees beside his friend; he carefully turned him over. "Warrick, call and ambulance now!" He blared in panic.

Warrick heard the call in desperation, he ran to where he heard Grissom's voice. "Oh my . . ." Warrick hastily pulled out his cell phone, "This is CSI Warrick Brown, a CSI is injured badly, we need medical assistance immediately!" He hung up his phone and watched Grissom try to rouse Nick.

Grissom took off Nick's gag, and observed the CSI's injuries. Bruises, cuts, bumps, broken limbs, and blood; allot of blood! "What happened to you Nicky?" Grissom muttered.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Short Awakening

Yes, it's short but . . .

* * *

A few minutes later, a pain filled moan caught Grissom's attention. He looked down to see two agony- filled eyes. "Nick!" Grissom breathed. A whimper answered Grissom. "Boss? What's goin on?" Nick slurred. "Your hurt Nick! Can you tell me what happened?"

A gasp escaped Nick's tortured body, when a white-hot arch of pain tore through his body. Nick's vision was dimming, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Hey Nick, stay with me!" Grissom said in his commanding tone, watching as Nick's eyes began to droop. "I cn't I'm tr'd!" Nick slurred. "Look Nick, you have a really bad concussion, so if you ever want to wake up again, than you keep your eyes open! You hear me?" Grissom blared, desperately trying to keep the panic from his voice.

Grissom's heart froze when he felt Nick's body stiffen and then go limp. "Warrick, how far is the ambulance?" "It should be here any second!" Warrick informed the older man. "Do the girls know what's going on?" Grissom asked his gaze now locked on Warrick. "Greg told them, they want to come help, but I told them to wait for the ambulance." Grissom nodded in understanding.

"Nick's going into shock, he's lost too much blood!" Grissom said trying to contain some ounce of stability. His worst nightmare was just coming true.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Save Him

Okay . . .

* * *

Nick had begun coughing, that was Grissom's first clue that Nick was bleeding internally. Then soon after, a horrible gurgle had come from Nick's throat. Grissom had acted quickly, turning the younger agent over in time to see the red inferno come splashing from his mouth.

_More Blood, _Grissom thought bitterly. The ambulance was stuck in traffic, apparently a 15-car pileup was effort number one. It was only a miracle that Nick had been able to sustain life this long, but he wouldn't be doing that for much longer.

Warrick had made a call to Brass, hoping that he could convince his connections that Nick was running out of time. "Warrick!" The cry had come from Grissom, and the sound of his voice struck Warrick like a semi. He ran quickly, stopping once he saw what Grissom was doing.

Nick's head was tilted back, he wasn't breathing, and his body was giving up. The lifeless agent's face was steadily turning the color of death, his lips becoming a darker blue. "Don't you dare give up Nick!" Warrick screamed at Nick as he fell to his knees beside him.

The next few minutes became a hellish nightmare for Warrick and Grissom; Grissom was breathing for Nick while Warrick pumped his chest.

It had taken 5minutes to revive Nick. When he had finally taken a breath, his throat had once again filled with crimson liquid. He was turned over again, only this time the gravely injured CSI didn't have the strength to cough out the substance that was clogging his airway. Grissom had, had to smack Nick in-between the shoulder blades.

Grissom hadn't noticed that Sarah and Catherine were standing in the room. Only when he heard a congested sob did he even look up, "You guys shouldn't see him like this!" Grissom warned. Catherine set clenched her jaw, unable to think of an answer.

"The ambulance is here Gris!" Greg said, jogging back into the room. Nick looked worse than he did when he had last seen him only 7 minutes ago. "He stopped breathing, we had to perform CPR," Grissom informed the lab tech. The youngest CSI nodded and rushed back out the door to inform the medics of the situation.

Within seconds everything changed, chaos consumed the eerie room. Groups of strangers had found they're way into the room, people with badges, and fist aid bags. Grissom was forcefully pulled back, the medics needed room to work.

"The victim has lost a lot of blood, there may be a fracture to his skull!" The man continued. "Pistol wound in his right shoulder, it's clean, it went right through; he's has some broken ribs and definite internal bleeding!" The man then put an oxygen mask over Nick's mouth. "We may have to tube him, he's having problems breathing on his own!"

The medic's worked gracefully, checking Nick's BP, and vital signs. "We have to incubate as soon as possible, and his pupils aren't responsive!" The woman medic said, pulling the stretcher towards the group. The man turned the air up on the tank that the mask was connected to. "We're okay for now, he's back, let's get him to the hospital!"

A backboard was shoved underneath Nick along with a neck brace. Then he was skillfully picked up and placed onto the stretcher where he was covered in blankets and strapped down. "Who's riding with us?" The medic asked as he helped usher the stretcher through the door.

"Grissom you go with him in case he wakes up!" Warrick said following closely behind the group. Grissom nodded and hoped into the ambulance. The doors were shut tight, and the ambulance sped off, with hopes of mercy trailing behind.

* * *

TBC 


	6. On The Way

Enjoy . . .

* * *

Grissom gripped Nick's hand tightly as the ambulance drove at a dangerous speed. The younger agent had miraculously gained consciousness when they were halfway away from the hospital. "Hey Nicky," Grissom struggled over the lump in his throat.

He watched as Nick struggled to say something, anything. But the long clear tube that had been forced down his throat only minutes ago, had successfully prevented him from speaking. Instead Nick squeezed Grissom's hand; it was the _only_ thing he could do.

The confused look that Nick had given Grissom had made his heart jump into his throat. Grissom tried to explain, unsure if Nick had even caught any of it. "Nicky your hurt, just relax!"

Nick's eyes opened wider after Grissom had told him. Grissom thought that that meant Nick had understood, but Nick's heart rate dropped so quickly. It had only meant that Nick had panicked when he became more aware of what was going on, and having massive internal bleeding had clearly made Nick turn onto the edges of sanity.

Grissom listened to the male medic explain on the radio that Nick wasn't going to last long without an operation, a very risky operation. Grissom had been so caught in the moment, it didn't even register that he needed to find out what had happened.

Obviously Nick had been attacked, but who would do that to Nick. The Texan that did everything in his power to get into **_EVERYONE'S _**good graces, nobody's name came into mind. They had had some bad cases, but the only person that could ever . . .

Grissom gasped when the realization hit him, Nigel Crane. _But that's impossible! _Grissom assured himself. _It could have been a simple break-in._ Grissom tried to convince himself. _It couldn't have been one though; nothing looked to be out of place!_

Nick was once again stabilized, but unconscious again. Relief poured in through him when they pulled into the emergency section of the hospital. A group of people was waiting for them, Doctors, nurses, and Brass.

Grissom gained a new respect for these people at that exact moment. They worked quickly to pull Nick out of the ambulance, once he was on solid ground he was wheeled at an increasing speed. The entire group was running along side of the stretcher yelling things he only vaguely registered.

A strong arm caught Grissom's shoulder at that moment. _Brass_! Grissom swung around looking into the shocked eyes of Brass. "I didn't know it was that bad!" Brass spit the words out, instantly feeling nauseous. Brass had never seen that much blood in his life, and he had seen a lot over the years.

Anger coursed through Grissom and he had to fight the urge to pummel Brass.

"Yes it is THAT bad, he was drowning in his blood because these morons couldn't get there quicker!" Grissom found himself yelling louder than he ever had in his entire life. But that didn't matter anymore, one of his surrogate sons was dying.

His entire team was his family, and if he lost one of them, he would lose them all, including himself. Suddenly he was lightheaded, the room was spinning unnaturally fast, and the sensation of falling consumed him.

Brass was quick; he managed to catch Grissom as he descended towards the hard tile floor. People rushed over, helping Brass with Grissom's dead weight.

_Grissom just had a breakdown. _Brass felt as if someone had just slapped him in the face. _If Grissom is like this then how bad is the rest of the team? _Brass silently wondered.

* * *

TBC 


	7. The Drive

Well here is the next Chapter.

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**_Warrick:_**

Warrick was losing his mind, that part was clear. He had no idea if Nick was alive, and the ride to the hospital was agonizingly slow. After he had given the police officers his statement, he had waited patiently for Sarah, Catherine, and Greg to do so.

They sat in silence the whole ride there. Warrick drove and the rest of the group thought about what would happen if Nick . . . but he wouldn't, he couldn't, that wouldn't be his style. Would it? And for the first time in his short life, Warrick had prayed that that annoying Texan accented agent would be okay, really okay.

Flashes of what Nick had looked like when they found him, and when they had to bring him back to life, kept pushing they're way into his mind. He felt sick, he just wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

* * *

**_Catherine:_**

Catherine played with her hands, because that's all she could do. No snippy remarks, she couldn't even bring comfort to her team. Seeing Nick the way he was . . . it was just too much.

Every few minutes she would catch herself looking over at Warrick, he seemed to be in great thought.

Her heart had dropped the first time she laid her eyes upon Nick in his apartment, covered in blood. She had made sure that no one touched the crime scene, it was the teams' case, and she would search to the end of the earth to find whoever hurt Nick.

It took great effort to not break down in front of everyone, but she knew she had the right to. This was Nick, not some stranger, not just another case, this was her brother.

* * *

**_Sarah:_**

Bitter thoughts ran through Sarah's head. Why Nick? What happened? What was going to happen? Everything was fine last night, she had seen Nick and he was fine then. Only now he wasn't he was on the brink of death.

She wanted to cry it was as simple as that. Cry until her hearts content that or, cry until she couldn't ever again. The good times had played through her head, over and over again.

Nick was . . . Nick she helped in any way he could. He knew how to comfort and how to make everything better. And now . . . someone needed to save him.

* * *

**_Greg:_**

Greg had never felt so useless in his life; at this point there was nothing to do. No DNA to test no foreign substance testing. Just the feeling of hopelessness, because they might be going to the hospital to find out that Nick didn't make it.

The awkward silence was killing him. And it bothered him even more that he was soon going to have to face reality. That Nick might not be here anymore, just his memory filled with good intentions.

And with sighs of relief, the team had arrived at he hospital, unsure of what they were going to uncover.


	8. Finding Out

Here is the next Chapter . . .

Enjoy . . .

* * *

He was lightheaded, why was he lightheaded? Grissom tried to remember what had happened, he drew a complete blank.

It was as if a veil had been dropped in front of his mind. He didn't like that, because it meant that something bad had happened to one of his teammates. That meant that he needed to get out of this dark oblivion.

"I think he's coming around!"

That sounded like Sarah, which meant that she had to be okay.

"Let's hope so!"

That voice belonged to Warrick, okay so Sarah and Warrick down, just a few more to go.

Grissom struggled to open his eyes, but once he did ten sets of enormous eyes stared back at him. All of which belonged to, Warrick, Sarah, Catherine, Greg, and Brass. Where was Nick?

"Well hello sleepyhead!" Catherine greeted. One could easily tell that the smile was fake, why would she be staring down at him like that?

"Where's Nick?" Grissom asked, knowing that he was missing something. A feeling of unease had settled within him, and he was desperately trying to figure out why.

The fact that Grissom hadn't remembered had only added to the sadness that filled the room. "Grissom, how much do you remember about last night?" Sarah was asking this time. And the look on her face was really making Grissom feel even more antsy.

"My mind is a complete blank, why am I in the hospital?"

Warrick bit his lip, this would be bad. "Grissom, yesterday Nick never met you and Brass for lunch. You got a little worried, so the whole team came with you to his apartment. When we got to his apartment, we found Nick . . . and he had been attacked." Warrick stopped watching as his supervisors' face fell from curiosity to horror.

"He's okay though right?" Grissom inquired.

"Nick had stopped breathing a couple times on the way here, the medics were able to bring him back. When you arrived with him he was taken to have emergency surgery."

It took a lot for Grissom not to completely lose it. After Warrick had finished, the memories came rushing back to him. The panic, the shock, and the anger.

"Is he . . . alive?" Grissom stuttered.

Grissom tried to read the look on Warrick's face, but that was impossible. "He's . . . in intensive care, they had to tube him, he couldn't breathe on his own. There was a mass amount of internal bleeding."

Next Catherine stepped forward. "Gris . . . Nick's in a coma."

That was the moment Grissom had lost it, he was on his feet in a flash. "What room is he in?" When no one answered his frustration grew. He grabbed Brass around the caller and yelled, "What room is he in?"

Brass had relented, Grissom was a wreck and the team wasn't far behind. "Room 149, Grissom he doesn't look good, the doctors said it was nothing short of a miracle that he didn't drown in his blood!"

* * *

Grissom walked down the hall in the short pen-stripe gown. He was absolutely horrified of how Nick would look, after the doctors had given Grissom the long and horrifying list of injuries the young man had had, Grissom pictured a Frankenstein look-alike.

He stepped slowly into the ICU room his legs immediately froze. _Was that Nicky?_ It couldn't be, Nick wasn't supposed to have a clear tube snaking from his mouth like that. He wasn't supposed to be covered head to toe in bruises and bandages. It couldn't be Nick.

The chair next to the bed was instantly occupied, Grissom knew he would be there for a while yet. "Hey Nicky," Grissom spoke softly.

Of course he knew that there wouldn't be an answer, but it felt better to talk to his comatose friend. "It's gonna be okay, we're gonna get who did this, and they're gonna pay!" Anger once again boiled it's way to the surface.

After talking to Nick for a few hours, Grissom decided to talk to Nick's doctor. "How long is he going to be . . . in an unconscious state?"

The doctor was touched be this group of people, they had stayed be both they're friends sides during this whole ordeal. "I'm afraid it's up to Mr. Stokes, his body is healing and it's times like these that you can be thankful that he's not aware! If he were, I would imagine it would hurt like nothing he's ever felt before."

Grissom nodded in his understanding. He turned around and faced his other teammates and spoke with venom. **"Get your kits, we're going to work!"**

* * *

TBC 


	9. Confusion

Enjoy . . .

* * *

An anger Grissom could not define had been his only comfort for the past few hours.

He stood in Nick's apartment, the living room to be exact. He stared down at the pools of dry crimson.

It had taken over thirty minutes to step into this room. Nick was brutalized here, and whoever did it was bent on making sure that he wouldn't be found.

Of course Grissom knew better, he would get the evil prick that did this and make him pay.

"Grissom!" a voice sounded in the hallway outside of Nick's bedroom.

It was Sarah.

"What have you got?" Grissom needed answers, he knew he should be helping but it was harder than he could ever imagine to stay concentrated. Memories and possibilities kept his mind completely full.

She lifted her gloved hand into the air, showing what she had come across.

It was Nick's backup gun, and it hadn't even been discharged. Which means he was taken by surprise.

"Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble not to get caught," Sarah tried to remain in control of her emotions, but it was getting harder, her eyes stung, holding back her tears was taking her utmost stamina. _Keep it together, Grissom needs this._

Her realization came to her as a complete shock, why was she feeling at the edge of despair? She would be receiving no comfort from her team. Nick was going to live, but he might not ever wake up.

She shook her head at that, Nick was going to wake up, he had to. He wouldn't just leave them like that.

"Sarah?" Grissom had watched as Sarah had gone through at least a dozen emotions in the last minute. Her expression had changed with each one; she was going to give up on Nick.

"I'm sorry," Sarah tried to catch herself. Grissom could read people, and she knew he had seen right through her exterior, he knew what she was thinking.

Grissom's team couldn't work on this case; it was too . . . fresh. This was Nick, the boy wonder, and the do-gooder.

"Warrick, Catherine, Greg!" Grissom yelled. He had to get his team out of here, it was somehow . . . tainted.

The three came in at record. They all looked to their leader for direction. "We being taken off of this case," Grissom had done it, crushed any hope of being the ones to bring Nick's attacker to their knees.

"Wha . . . What happed?"

"Why are we being taken off?"

"What's gonna happen?"

"Who's taking over Nick's case?"

The questions had shot from their mouths quicker than a bat out of hell.

But they all understood his explanation, "We can't take the . . . anger, we need to be there for Nick when he wakes up. I'm afraid that I'll . . . kill the person who did this to Nick."

Slowly but surely all of the team members had nodded they're understanding.

The feeling was mutual; there was no telling what would happen if any one of the CSI were given five minutes alone with the guy what they would do.

They collected the equipment, and briefed the next best CSI team.

This night wouldn't be spent riding on angry feelings; it would be spent at a friend's bedside.

It was so easy; the hospital staff was clueless.

He would get into Nick's room; he had to see his friend. Making sure that he was still breathing was priority number one.

Nigel only hoped that the guy he had knocked unconscious in the medicine room wouldn't wake up before he had given Nick his gift.

The crisp white doctor's coat fit perfectly.

Room 149, this was it.

The shock of seeing Nick in such bad shape didn't even faze him. The tube that snaked from his mouth did have an affect on him though.

He watched with fascination as it forcefully pushed air into Nick's lungs. Up and down, up and down.

_Get the job done! _He repeated in his head like a mantra.

The syringe in his pocket would do its job; he injected it quickly into the CSI's I.V.

A sound at the door startled the man on a warpath.

Spinning around he came face to face with Gilbert Grissom.

* * *

TBC 


	10. Unconscious Plains

This Chapter is longer, and I'm kind of proud of it . . . so yeah

Enjoy . . .

* * *

Tenzin Gyatson once said,_ "Do not confuse peace of mind with spaced outinsensitivity. A truly peacful mind is very sensitive, and aware._ Nick felt at peace, and that scared him.

He thought that he would be feeling an amount of pain un-comprehendible by human force. Yet he felt at peace, and it was strange to think that he might be dead.

Was this hell? Or was it something he had created in the midst of his imagination?

He watched as images from his life floated in front of him. His family, his whole family- it included his parents his siblings, his grandparents, cousins, nieces, nephews, and . . . his team.

Grissom smiled brightly at him, it made him feel warm. Grissom was always a father to him, and on more than one occasion he knew that Grissom would love to have grounded him.

Then there was Warrick, one of his best friends and his surrogate brother. He held a bad ass look of content on his face that Nick had tried to match up to in the past but failed miserably at.

Catherine stood beside Warrick; her beautiful curls shook with her swaying hips. Her toothy smile was absolutely breathtaking, he remembered what it was like to walk into the lounge and she'd be sitting there all flustered, but when she looked up at him a real smile would replace the worry and doubt. It almost made him laugh.

Sarah shone brightly next to Catherine. A sweet full-lip smile covered her face, she seemed . . . happy. She was always fun to work with, she'd try her ideas and act as if she were the queen of England . . . famous in a glory all her own.

On the other side of Grissom, the spiky haired lab tech stood proudly beside his team. Nick had to smile brightly at that. Greg had always wanted to be out in the field, but his innocence overrode his intellect. Greg hated to admit it, but Nick had always known that Greg was afraid of these people that had been savagely attacked and murdered. These people had family's that were expecting them to come home, and they would never be able to do so.

That's what initially drove Nick to be a CSI. These people had met an untimely death, and it was up to them to see that justice was served.

And finally his attention turned to Brass. That man was positively infuriating sometimes, although the man had good intentions. It struck Nick as odd that Brass continued to give him crap over every little mistake, maybe the old goon was actually trying to look out for him.

Nick watched as memories flew by, some where not so pleasant but the ones that were, were well worth the wait.

Suddenly Nick was catapulted and engulfed into some kind of vision.

He watched as His older brother, Grissom, Warrick, Brass, and Greg carried a coffin across a green-grass filled cemetery. He recognized people sitting on chairs behind a gaping whole in the ground; everyone was dressed in black. The women wore veils over they're eyes and each one held a tissue.

Catherine and Sarah occupied seats next to his mother and father. Four seats remained empty beside the girls, for the men carrying the coffin no doubt.

His mind screamed out at him, and he watched on in horror as the coffin was placed in front of his loved ones. It was him inside obviously, it was a great relief though. At least he knew that his team was safe, and not lying there next to him.

It had begun to rain, even in this realm Nick had gotten drenched. And he watched on, with great wonderment.

Was this really the end; was this happening, had he lost the battle for is life?

The feeling of someone watching him overwhelmed his senses. He turned quickly, and 100 feet away stood Nigel Crane.

The man wore a dark green poncho; the hood was pulled over his head. But still Nick could see the man clearly, as though he was standing next to him and not gazing at him through the rain.

Nigel looked troubled, almost guilty. As if someone had shot his dog or maybe his best friend. Nick shivered at that thought, Nigel was the one who had put him in this position in the first place.

Who knew, maybe Nigel was just really lonely, even to the point of picking some random and stalking them.

Nick was so frustrated at the fact that Nigel Crane really did still scare him.

And even now, it wasn't a great comfort to know that his team would do anything to avenge his murder.

Nick didn't even get to tell Grissom that it was Nigel who did it. He clenched his eyes shut, as memories of his attack receded in his mind, the pain, and the fear.

Images disappeared and reappeared for longer than Nick had ever remembered them being.

Oh well, if he this was all he had to endure for the rest of time, than if wouldn't be so bad. Boring yeah, but not bad.

"Nick!" a voice called from behind him.

He spun around quickly, his eyes opening wide at who it was.

"Grandma?" he asked in disbelief.

She smiled proudly at him and replied, "Hello hun." Her thick Texan accent made his smile grow. When she reached him, she grabbed both sides of his face and planted a loud smacking kiss on his forehead.

Nick rolled is eyes at that, she only greeted him like that. Even though he had matured, he still thought it was embarrassing when she did it. He had missed her dearly when she had passed away two years ago.

"I've missed you so much Nicky!" She spoke sincerely to her youngest grandchild.

Nick smiled, and fought not to boast his chest out proudly.

"I've missed you to nana!"

"What have you been up to, you look so grown up," Nana always had a way of letting all her questions spill out like he spicy Texas chili.

"I'm still a CSI, but I'm not married nor do I have a girlfriend." Nick watched as both his grandmothers' eyebrows went up in surprise.

"I knew I should have forced you to date Gweneths' granddaughter, she really is a sweet girl, I think that you'd like her." She stopped when she noticed Nick's annoyed look.

"What? Your mother wants to marry you off as much as I do!" She defended herself.

"But Nana, isn't kind of hard to do when we're . . . dead?" Nick asked.

A smile encompassed his Nana's face as she replied her questioning grandson. "Nicky, your not dead, your in limbo!"

Nick looked at her questioningly, waiting for an answer.

"This is the place between the spirit world, and the mortal world. You're here to decide if you want to go back, and I'm here for moral support." Her eyes reflected her logic.

"So I get to choose if I want to go back?" Nick asked, not willing to believe it was so easy.

"Of course child, but you do need to show me what's worth living for, and I suggest we get started before we run out of time!"

His Nana grabbed his arm and led him back. Back to his earliest memories.

"This is where is begins Nicky!"

* * *

TBC 


	11. Checking Up On Nick

Here is the next Chapter

Enjoy . . .

* * *

Nigel stood in horror. After he finally snapped out of his shock, he extended his hand towards the suspicious man. Maybe his disguise would really hold for now.

Grissom eyed the young man; he seemed skittish, of course he just kind of snuck up on the doctor.

When the man extended his hand, he took and gave it a hearty shake.

"Sorry to startle you ah . . . doctor . . .?"

"Doctor Smith, and you would be?" Nigel asked smiling. His sharade had worked, but he had to get out of there before the amitriptyline took its toll on Nick.

If he was still there when the drug created its effect Grissom would know, his long hard hours of planning would have been for nothing.

"Gilbert Grissom, is there any change in Nick's condition?" Grissom asked still a little suspicious about the mans identity. The man looked so familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

"No, he . . . is still unresponsive."

Nigel had only skimmed over Nick's injury file. The young man's collarbone was shattered from the impact of that bullet he had shot him with.

His wrist was shattered, and he had a grade three concussion.

The massive internal bleeding caught his attention though, he hadn't meant to originally cause SO much damage, but not all things could have been avoided.

Nigel had gotten lucky though, if Grissom hadn't worried about Nick the way he did, then Nick wouldn't have survived test one.

Nigel had gotten angry with himself for putting Nick in such an off position, Nick was unconscious so he couldn't tell Grissom that they were no longer friends, that Nigel was his friend. And if Nigel would have saved Nick himself, surely Nick would have been willing to forgive him for his rash decision on shooting him. But Grissom had gotten to Nick quicker.

"His blood loss brought down his blood pressure so quickly that we almost lost him." Nigel smiled at the look on Grissom's face, the man looked as if he would explode.

"Do you have any idea when he'll wake up doctor?" Warrick asked from the doorway.

Nigel looked at the man; it was the same guy that was carelessly talking on his cell phone when Nigel had pushed Nick through the second story window. _What a careless friend_, Nigel thought bitterly. _I would have never left Nick alone in an apartment like that._ Nigel justified.

"I'm not one could decipher that, I was sent here solely to check up on him," Nigel blurted out. In all honesty he wish he knew when Nick would wake up.

Grissom now eyed him with uncertainty. "If you were sent here to check up on him then how did you know his condition so prominently?"

Nigel tried hard not to roll his eyes at this man. "I have to be informed of the patients condition before I check on him of course!" Nigel defended himself, he wasn't incompetent. Nick was his first priority.

"Of course, I'm sorry if I offended you . . . it's just that Nick is like a son to me, and we are worried about him." Grissom was now trying to sort out pictures and names of people; this man was so familiar.

"Well, I have work to do . . . but if I see Nick's physician, then I'll send him up here to answer any of your questions. Nigel had only a few minutes at best before Nick's body would shoot into overdrive.

Grissom nodded; he really needed to speak with Nick's doctor. "It's okay, I'll call him, I have a few questions I need to ask him." Grissom put his hand to his chin, if he didn't find out whom that man was it was going to drive him crazy.

The man smiled and walked out the door.

"Griss, is it me or did that guy seem . . . somehow familiar?" Warrick asked, his blue eyes locking onto the pale figure lying unnaturally still, a thin clear sheet of plastic hung over him to protect his body from bacteria. Both Warrick and Grissom were asked to put on surgical clothing complete with cap, mask and boots.

"Its bothering me, he seemed a little too nervous," Grissom replied, pulling up an ugly blue plastic chair next Nick. He picked up the phone lying on the nightstand; he waited until someone picked up. It was a nurse; she paged Nick's doctor who answered the phone five minutes later.

"Mister Grissom, what can I do for you today?" The doctor asked.

"Doctor Jennings, do you have any good new for me today?" Grissom asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry but Mister Stokes is in the same physical and mental condition he was yesterday. He is still very weak, and there is a good chance that his body will indeed take on an infection in his lungs."

Grissom frowned at the news. "Is there anything that you can do? My field is in forensic science and I have more luck with the dead than with the living, but I'm sure that there has to be something you can do for him."

"Calm down Mister Grissom, there are risks to everything, but Nick has a good chance of coming through this. It's harder to know the extent of these injuries when the patient is in a coma, such as Mister Stokes. And do believe that even though Mr. Stokes hasn't gotten better, he hasn't gotten worse, and that could be vital right now in his current state."

Grissom and doctor Jennings conversed for a few more minutes, than Grissom and Warrick talked about old times.

"Griss, do you think Nick will have . . . mental problems when he wakes up?"

Grissom looked down at his hands, that thought had managed to always stick its way into the back of his mind. He wondered many times if Nick would have these problems and the same answer beckoned him every time.

"I don't know, I know more about what can go wrong with the human anatomy, than what can go right. Nick is sensitive about his work, and I have absolutely no idea what will come of this accident."

Warrick was about to speak when Nick's monitors started going berserk.

His body started shaking with little movements, then got bigger until his body was arching off the bed.

"Warrick, go get help!" Grissom yelled.

Warrick did as he was told; he ran down the hall and collected any nurse free.

Grissom had to hold Nick down before he pulled the I.V. from his arm. The convulsions were getting worse bringing on new problems.

Grissom watched in horror as bile erupted from the young agents' mouth. Thinking quickly, he rolled Nick over before he could choke. Memories of the night the team had found Nick flooded his senses.

He looked up to the heart monitor to find a straight line coursing through the screen, not the comforting zig-zag that proved a heart was still beating.

* * *

TBC 


	12. Memories

Sorry it took me so long to update, I was just trying to get into the groves of things . . .

Enjoy . . .

* * *

"I remember this day," Nick said as he watched his six-year-old self throw the baseball to his eleven-year-old brother. It was hard not to laugh at himself, he use to throw very much like a girl.

The ball only stayed in the air for a few mediocre seconds, but in the air if flew like a feather then hit the ground like a rock and rolled two feet.

Nick scrunched his eyebrows together as his older brother fell to the ground in a fit of laughter. Nick loved and admired his brother, but when it came down to it . . . Mat was a horrible teacher, and he wasn't helping his pitching skills much by laughing at him.

"Come on squirt, throw the ball as hard as you can, okay?" Mat said as he finally got control of his giggling fit.

Nick tried again, only to end up with the same results as last time.

Mat fought hard not to break down again, his brother couldn't throw a baseball to save his life. "Look Nicky, you have to throw like this," Mat got into position, winding his arm and throwing the ball with incredible force.

Nick sighed clearly frustrated. "I hate this game, I can't frow the stinkin ball!"

Mat was set and determined to teach his baby brother how to play baseball. He remembered his mothers' words exactly, "Mathew James Stokes, you haven't played with your little brother in months! He's lonely and he misses his older brother, I think maybe you should take some time out of your busy life and teach him something."

Oh yes, his mother had once again succeeded in making him feel guilty. Of course he should be use to it by now, she was very good at it. She often used it on their father and the effort was successful, their father was indeed wrapped around her fingers. It was only natural that she would be doing it again in the future, only using her power of guilt towards him, the older brother.

So whether he liked it or not, he was going to spend the next hour or so teaching Nick the fair trades of America's past time.

"Mat, I don't tink I can frow dat far!" Nick frowned, his speech always made his older brother giggle, and this time was not an exception.

It was hot, and he hated baseball. Why couldn't Mat teach him to do something that HE might actually enjoy doing, and that definitely did not include baseball.

Maybe they could go on an adventure; the yard was big enough. He loved solving things, such as where Mat had placed his sneakers, or trying to find where his father had placed the newly lost remote to the TV.

It didn't take long for his mother to give him a nickname for all his trouble, 'My little detective' she would call him over and over again. Nick had never had a problem with being called by that phrase. In fact, he loved it. The name would make him feel important and strong, something every six-year-old would strive for.

The smaller boy rolled his eyes, Mat had always made fun of his speech, and it didn't take much to figure out what he was giggling at.

Nick held the ball tightly, getting ready to throw with all his might. He took a couple steps back and watched as his brothers' face steadily turned from pleasure to horror.

"Nicky! Watch out!" Mat had screamed, running towards his brother.

Nick's face contorted in confusion. _Why was his brother yelling at him?_

Nick walked back more. "What's wrong Mat?" Nick called to his brother across the yard.

All the sudden he slammed into something behind him, before he could stop himself he felt his body flip over the side of the well.

In all the panic Nick couldn't find the strength to scream as his body plunged into the dark hole. His body made a splash when it contacted the water.

When Nick surfaced he gasped in air, filling his starving lungs with the precious oxygen. The cold water bit into his skin like a knife.

Thinking quickly, he latched onto the side of the well where vines had grown. He held himself upright and listened to his brother calling down to him frantically.

"Mat!" The little boy screamed. He was going to drown; he didn't know how to swim.

He remembered when his mother had insisted that he take swimming lessons, but being the persuasive boy that he was; little Nicky had ensured his mother that he was still just a tad too young to try anything so . . . extravagant. Now he wished more than anything that he had listened to his mother.

It was dark and he hated the dark. So much so, that he slept with a nightlight and the door open. His child logic had seemed so . . . understandable; the boy was a child and he hated the dark just like all of his other friends.

But at that moment it wasn't the darkness that was horrifying the six-year-old, it was the small space.

When he was four, Mat thought it would be funny if he locked Nick in the closet. Little did Mat know, Nicky was claustrophobic.

When Mat finally decided to let the young child out, he found the little boy unconscious and heavily breathing.

Nick had been rushed to the hospital. And after finding out that he was going to be fine, Mat had promised himself that he would never let Nick go through something like that again.

"I'm here Nicky," a voice boomed above him. "I'm coming down, watch out!" Fear struck the older brother; maybe if he had run faster, Nicky wouldn't be in that stupid pit.

"No Mat, if you come down then no one will know to come get us," Nick reasoned.

"Don't worry, grandma is going to find Dad," Mat said as he jumped into the water.

That was it, Nick had been using the side of the well to keep himself upright and when the force of his brother smacking into the water, and the huge ripples that followed went coursing throughout the small space, the boy had been forced to let go.

"Grandma, why did you take me here?" The confused CSI asked. Nick shivered when he saw himself flip over the brick barrier and tumble into the well. That day had frightened him, he still hated closed spaces.

His grandmother smiled knowingly over at him. "Do you remember what happened after you let go of those vines?" Her smile steadily got smaller as she watched her grandsons' flustered expression change into one of remembrance.

"Yeah," Nick stalled, he hated to remember this part. "Mat pulled me up and held me against the wall, he said that he couldn't let me drown. You and dad got to us quickly, we were only in there for a few minutes," Nick said slowly.

"Oh Nicky, in reality it was only a few minutes, but to your father and me and no doubt your brother, those few minutes seemed like days." Nick's grandma informed him. She remembered all to clearly what it felt like to hear Nicky crying hysterically, and listening to Mat mumble assurances to try and calm him down.

"I remember after we pulled you out, Mat wouldn't let anyone touch you, he kept insisting that he was going to take care of his little brother." Nola Stokes tried and failed miserably to hide a grin at the shocked expression on Nick's face.

"I don't remember that," Nick spoke incredulously. But Nick did remember that after that incident, Mat had been very protective.

Suddenly, Nick started swaying erratically on his feet. A shadow of nausea flittered itself into Nick's senses. He had to fight to keep himself upright.

"What's wrong Nicky?" Nola asked with concern decorating her aged voice.

"I don't know, I feel sick," Nick croaked as he fell to his knees.

Nola realized that his spirit was going to leave his body if someone didn't step in to save him. "If you want to stay here Nicky, then you'll have to fight for it . . . okay?" Nick's grandmother asked in her soft voice.

Nick nodded, then closed his eyes.

Where was he? Nick looked around and realized with a sudden horror that he was staring at himself in a hospital bed. And next to his bedside sat his friend and mentor, Gilbert Grissom. Nick observed that Grissom was shouting in his face.

"What does he think that's gonna do? I'm dying," Nick said in an unbelieving voice. Nick clenched his eyes tightly, he was sleepy and it would be so easy to give into the darkness that beckoned him.

He snapped his eyes open, _I have to fight!

* * *

_

TBC . . . 


	13. Training

Hello again! Here is the next chapter!

Enjoy . . .

* * *

Grissom tried to keep himself upright as he looked at the young agents light azure lips, it was that same sickly color that had made its appearance at Nick's apartment.

Grissom had screamed and yelled his frustration; Nick was his vent and vent he did. He remembered screaming into Nick's face and begging him to fight; and Grissom shook unresponsive CSI until his legs gave out.

After he had gotten over the initial shock, his CSI training had kicked in.

Nick wasn't breathing, and Warrick hadn't returned with help yet. Nick had been in a grand maul seizure and the effects weakened his lungs, and may have caused transparent problems in his brain. The intubation tube still forced oxygen into the young mans body, but his brain wasn't responding to the transaction.

He grabbed Nick's hand and gave it a quick squeeze before he went to work. Thinking quickly Grissom cleaned Nick's face of the contents of his stomach that had spilled out of him with a bed-sheet. Then he tore the remaining sheets of and let them fall uselessly to the floor.

Leaning back towards the door he yelled frantically, "Warrick, Nick's flat-lining, I can't perform CPR with that damn tube down his throat and I'm not certified to use the paddles on him."

Grissom looked back at his slack friend and wondered if starting compressions would do any help. He shook his head at that thought; he would have to count how quickly the oxygen was being automatically pumped into his system.

After Grissom had watched as the CSI's chest moved up and down; he realized that there was no way that he could pump Nick's heart five times before the next wave of air forced its way into the mans' body. And if he tried, he could permanently damage something by inflicting too much pressure at once, maybe under normal circumstances he could, but Nick was to weak to sustain something like that.

Finally help arrived, the doctors and nurses worked together in a mantra of chaos, shouting orders and informing each other of Nick's physical state. "Get me the paddles, it's going to be impossible to start compressions in his weakened state," Grissom recognized the man as being Nick's surgeon.

The crash was wheeled over to the bed, Nick's polka-doted hospital gown was cut away skillfully with scissors. "Charge to two hundred," The screech of the crash cart was ominously loud as it charged, getting ready to attempt and save the young man's life.

Nick's body arched with an intensity, only to fall back down to reality. The heart monitor still whined loudly, Nick had not yet come back. "Charge to three hundred," the crash carts whine intensified greatly, willing to try one more time.

Warrick stood out of the way, pushing his back up against the wall that was located nearest to the door. His fist was pressed up against his mouth to quiet any outburst that might spew forth. "Come on Nicky," he murmured over and over hoping that he could will his friend to live.

"We have a heartbeat," a nurse called out. She grabbed Nick's arm, letting it mold limply into her hand. The woman put the pressure cuff on his arm, and pumped until the material had completely expanded. She waved the doctor over who winced when he saw the number.

"Let's get him on some inotropes stat, we need to bring down his blood pressure," The doctor continued to bark out orders, telling his staff to get medications.

"Is Nicky gonna pull through?" Grissom asked quizzically. He studied the doctor, pulling the answer from the doctor's expression like he had done to suspects in interrogation countless times.

"Mr. Grissom, you and Mr. Brown need to wait outside while we work," the doctor said as he grabbed him and Warrick by the elbow and ushered them both through the door.

The last thing Grissom and Warrick saw before the door was slammed into they're face was Nick's sickening gray pallor. "You can make it Nicky, fight for us,"

Grissom and Warrick paced the halls aimlessly, waiting for word on Nick. Grissom remembered his old supervisor telling him that it wasn't the dead people that caused the problems and drama, it was the people still breathing.

"Mr. Grissom?" a voice sounded behind the two men. They both swung around to see the young girl who worked at the front desk; they waited patiently for her to speak again.

"We got a phone call earlier, it was Mr. Stokes brother . . . he said that he'll be arriving tomorrow around 8:00 a.m." The girl stopped for a few seconds then began again, "He said that you can either meet him at the airport or here, but you'll have to call him to find out where exactly."

Grissom smiled genuinely. He had met the infamous Mat before; Nick absolutely adored his older brother. The two Stokes brothers were partners in crime; they had caused quite a stir in the lab last time the older brother visited.

After thanking the nurse, both men excused themselves and sat in those ugly uncomfortable chairs outside of Nick's door.

Grissom prayed that his young friend wouldlive to seetomorrow, maybe with Nick's brother, they could bring Nick back.

* * *

TBC . . . 


	14. Picking Up What You Left Behind

Before you all bring out your assault riffles . . . I can explain! My computer crashed, and I now had the phrase... 'Five to Ten buisness days'

And I have a favor to ask you all who are reading this! I need a BETA for this story! So if anyone would like to do that would be greatly appreciated . . . not to mention they would get sneek peaks at the befor-posted chapter!

Thanks, and Enjoy . . .

* * *

Mat clutched the seat of the airplane, he hated to fly and he rarely did, but this time was different. Grissom had called him, telling him what had happened. For the first time the he had ever remembered from speaking to Grissom the man had seemed laid back and calm, but on the phone the man was falling to pieces.

Nicky was his baby brother, and his lifeline. Nicky always seemed to make things easier to handle when it felt as if the world would crush him. What would he possibly do without him?

He rubbed his temples, hoping to make the images of his baby brother battered and bruised leave him. No such luck, hours after his phone call from Grissom had spurred his imagination in the worst way possible.

Nick's supervisor had explained in detail the extent of Nick's injuries. A grade three concussion, a broken collarbone, massive internal bleeding, his right lung had collapsed too . . . the list went on. He cringed inwardly at the news, and had asked how Nicky had gotten into the situation.

_Who would attack Nicky?_ He asked himself. In his effort to answer the question, his mind came up blank. Sure, Nicky could be . . . annoying, but wasn't every little brother? Not to mention after the many countless hours of practicing baseball, Nicky still throws like a girl.

Mat had greatly hoped that Grissom would be on the case, trying to figure out who could possibly do something so heinous to his brother.

Mat had been deeply confused; Grissom was the type of man to bring someone to justice no matter the price, minus the lives of his friends. But Grissom had said that things would get violent between the team and Nick's attacker. The words were spoken in truth, if he himself would ever get his hands on that person . . . he'd very well kill them.

Some sudden turbulence made his stomach do a flip-flop, he really hated flying.

* * *

"Mr. Grissom?" A voice asked, making the tired CSI's head shoot up. Nick's doctor looked down at him, waiting for permission to begin. After a good shake of his head, the doctor began.

"He's stabilized again. Mr. Stokes shouldn't have had system failure like he did, after we got him stabilized I drew some blood to find the problem, and I did. Desipramine was found in his system, and I'm sure you now what that means."

Grissom stood beside Warrick and they both nodded their heads furiously, remembering the classes they had taken when they were younger.

Desipramine: it was an anti-depressant, and an overdose could trigger a mass of problems. These problems could range from, convulsions, shock, vomiting, irregular heartbeat, and low blood sugar.

"What are his symptoms?" Gibbs nodded as the man poured all of his current information into the CSI.

"We had to pull the tube from Mr. Stokes mouth due to the vomiting, we have nurses waiting in his room just in case." The doctor spoke unhappily. "None of my staff have been in there today except for me, and Mr. Stokes regular nurses, did you see anybody while you were visiting him?" Doctor Jennings inquired.

"Not besides a couple nurses . . . and doctor Jennings," Warrick supplied. A feeling of dread encompassed the agent when the realization dawned on him. He now knew why doctor Jennings had looked so familiar. Warrick looked over to Grissom, and they both shared the same look. "Grissom, doctor Jennings . . ."

"Doctor Jennings is the culprit in this crime . . . its Nigel Crane!" Grissom finished the sentence for Warrick. An anger consumed him that could not be ignored, he was going to do what he should have from the beginning, he was going to find the son-of-a-bitch.

Grissom had to forget his pledge to himself, and his team. They were going to find this psychopath, he was going to pay dearly.

* * *

Catherine, Sarah, Greg, and Brass sat in silence. They had heard only a few minutes ago what had happened to their friend. All of them were horrified at the anger that their supervisor had displayed towards them.

Nigel Crane, that was a name that they were hoping would never come up again, but tonight, it did. He was the man who tortured Nick to the point of near death, hell; the man had killed Nick, twice! The team was now picking up the investigation, only now they had new information, information that would fuel them until justice was met and served.

Their last interactions with the esteemed Mr. Crane had not been pleasant. And this time the CSI's were out for revenge, possible even for blood.

The cafeteria was huge, but somehow it now seemed as if it were closing on the four and only occupants of the space. Catherine was griping her hands together, Sarah was holding her cup in a death lock, Greg was staring fixedly down at the table, and Brass's hand was placed heavily on his gun.

As soon as Grissom would return from the airport, the team would be off, searching for clues. Evidence that would link a guilty to a man to a heinous crime that he had made indefinitely personal to the Las Vegas CSI crime lab.

* * *

TBC . . .

* * *


End file.
